The Strong One
by CalPal052699
Summary: "This time, though, it's their daughter, and she's a mother and not a cop, and she's falling apart, and he can't because she needs him, they both need him." Castle and Beckett's daughter is kidnapped.


**The strong one.**

* * *

It starts one day when he gets a phone call from her, his lighthearted greeting cut off the moment he hears her heavy breathing, the tears in her voice as she mumbles so softly he can barely hear her. And his heart breaks for her, hand clutching the small device as he pushes himself up from his desk, panic rushing through him because she's called him crying _twice_ in all the years since they met.

Her words, though, break his heart even more, have him slipping on the first pair of shoes he can find, tears spring to his own eyes, his breathing growing shallow.

"She's not here, Rick. She's gone. Anna, she's gone."

* * *

He calls Alexis, asks if she or Zac know anything about Anna's whereabouts.

They haven't, so he asks them to pick up Adam from preschool, telling them not to worry, even though he feels the panic spreading through his being like wildfire.

Kate talks to the school principal, asks if _anyone ever _came in and asked about Annabelle, if they've seen anyone suspicious anywhere on campus.

They haven't.

She cries again when she calls back to tell him, her voice muffled, her breathing so shallow it reminds him of when she's having a panic attack. He realizes she might be, asks where she is so he can go and meet her, go and pick her up _right away._

She practically screams into the phone. "It's a private school, Castle. How could she just go missing? How could we let this happen?" And he can't hang up because he loves her, has the same questions, and while he fears for Anna, he needs to at least know that Kate is okay.

* * *

He drives them to the twelfth, her Crown Vic staying in the school parking lot because she still balling, and he wants to do the same but he needs to be strong for her. So he drives, holds her hand as tightly as possible in his as she cries clings to the one part of him she can get.

Ryan and Espo and Gates, they'll help. He knows they will. They did last time. They did when Alexis was missing, they will now. They love Anna. He tells himself all this, hears her mumble into herself like a gentle prayer, like a soft spoken mantra, like she's desperately trying to hold onto hope.

They'll help. They'll all work together. They'll find Anna.

He hopes.

She hopes.

They hope together as he pulls her towards him, holds her head against his shoulder, fingers releasing hers to knot in her hair as they ignore the rules of the road, stopped at a red light, crying together as they hope. Because Anna's gone, and hope is all they have.

* * *

Thankfully, missing persons reports for children can be filed right away, and the boys and Gates know that they would never just jump to conclusions about something—or someone—as important as Anna.

He tells them everything he knows. He tells them everything she's told him, asks her yes or no questions because she can't speak, can only cry.

Gates nods at him, answers an unspoken question, and he pulls Kate into his lap, wraps his arms around her because he hates this, hates seeing her like this. Everyone hates seeing her like this, because she's Kate Beckett—well, Kate Beckett-Castle, but that doesn't matter right now—and she's never like this.

But she is. She's crying, and shaking with sobs, face buried in his chest and fingers wrapped around the material of his shirt. And he cries, too, because it's _Anna, _and she's missing and he feels helpless as his wife cries in his embrace, his daughter out there, _somewhere._

And the boys leave, already starting on the investigation because they love her, too. And Gates leaves to help, because Annabelle Castle is the only Castle that has the buttoned-up captain wrapped around her little finger. And he pulls Kate closer, buries his face in her hair and cries, still sitting in Gates' office.

* * *

Gates is on the phone with the FBI asking for their help in finding Anna. The boys are updating the murder board, their previous case handed off to Karpowski's team because this is personal, and there's no way they're not working this case, there's no way they're not finding Anna.

Kate is still clinging to him as they exit the office, arms wrapped around his middle, face buried in the crook of his neck.

She looks up at just the wrong moment, and her knees quake, and her breath catches in her throat on a choked sob and his eyes slam shut and yet he still finds the strength to pull her against him, crush her body against his, letting her bury her face in his neck, his eyes still closed as he buries his nose in her hair because, really, it's all he can do.

Because that just...that's just no. That's just...wrong and...no...and he never wants to look at that again.

Anna's picture doesn't belong under '_VICTIM'_.

* * *

He brings her into the breakroom. She drinks her coffee silently, tears gleaming in her eyes as she stares at the table in front of her, her one hand still clutched in his.

He calls Alexis, asks her to put Adam on the phone and puts their two and a half year old on speakerphone so Kate can talk to him, or at least hear him.

He sees a sparkle of joy, of relief flash in her eyes as their son's voice comes through the receiver, his words slurred and mispronounced and so perfectly him that he feels those same sentiments wash over him as well, makes him squeeze her hand because he's _safe._

And then she starts crying again, and he takes Adam off speakerphone, tells him he's going to sleep at Lexi's, talks to him for a couple minutes before hanging up, his fingers, still enveloped by hers, wiping the tears off her cheeks as his mind drifts from his conversation with Adam to the reason for her tears.

Their little boy is safe.

Their little girl isn't.

* * *

Last time, it was him. He was the one crying. He was the one desperate for answers. He was the one in need of support, and she was the one giving it to him, holding his hand, holding him up when he felt like he was falling apart.

This time, though, it's _their _daughter, and she's a mother and not a cop, and she's falling apart, and he can't because she needs him, they both need him.

This time, he holds her hand, holds her up when she's falling apart, because this time it's their little girl, and he has to be the strong one.

Last time, she was here for him. This time, he has to be there for her.

* * *

Agent Dawson shows up and shakes his hand. He introduces himself as Richard Castle.

Kate won't shake his hand. Her body is tense against his, arms wrapped around him, his wrapped around her, as she remains buried in his side and introduces herself as _Kate, Anna's mom._

It's the first time that he hears her introduce herself as _Kate, _instead of as _detective Beckett, _in the precinct.

* * *

She won't look at the murder board, won't leave the breakroom, won't let go of his hand.

He can't do it, either.

* * *

Agent Dawson tells them to hope that this is all about ransom.

They already were.

* * *

Nothing comes up.

Agent Dawson sends them home. Kate refuses. Gates sends them home. Kate, albeit hesitantly, agrees.

A new team of agents comes with them—one is already at the loft, waiting for any potential phonecalls, or any form of contact from Anna—and Kate just stares at them, lets them lead the way even though they're all going to her home, to _their _home.

One team leaves, the other takes their place.

Kate curls herself into a ball on the couch. He sits next to her, pulls her against him, and covers them both with a blanket.

The agents watch them. She watches them, too.

* * *

She won't go to bed, her eyes still wide open, open too wide, like when Anna stays up way past her bedtime and his overtired but still tries to convince him that she's _not tired, daddy._ And his heart breaks at the comparison, his daughter's voice echoing in his head, memories of her falling asleep with her head in his lap, his fingers running through short, curly, amber locks of her hair.

He swallows back the tears, the eyes of an FBI agent on him, his eyes locked on Kate, her body looking so small and frail, buried in layers of thick blanket.

He scoops her up and into his arms, her fingers wrapped around the blanket so tightly that he doesn't even try to make her leave it behind. And her eyes are wide, and even as he carries her away from them, she watches the agents still sitting in their living room until he crosses their bedroom's threshold and they're no longer in view.

Then, she turns her head and buries her face in the crook of his neck.

Her cries bounce off the walls. His are muffled by her pillow.

* * *

Her side of the bed is empty when he wakes up in the wee hours of the morning. The clock on his nightstand tells him it's just past one. The space next to him is cold, the blanket from the couch gone, tears dried and sticky on his cheeks.

He gets out of bed faster than he ever has before, doesn't have to ask the agents where she went.

He finds her in Anna's bedroom, still awake, tears streaming down her cheeks. Anna's teddy elephant is clutched in her hands, pressed against her face and muffling her sobs. The blue fabric of Anna's Avengers bedspread is curled around her, and he doesn't have the willpower to move her.

He curls up behind her, one hand running through the long, curly hair that she passed down to their daughter, the other clutching Chloe the elephant's ear.

* * *

Their hopes and prayers aren't answered.

This wasn't all about ransom.

* * *

They have nothing but a loose, messy and uncertain timeline, written with bold, black marker in Esposito's messy handwriting against the white of the murder board. Kate still won't look at it. He forces himself to, because he needs to help.

He can't feel helpless anymore.

Kate stays in the break room. He stares at the board. Neither one of them are of any help.

* * *

For the first time since Annabelle was born, he wishes that she was more of a social butterfly and less of a bookworm. The kids in her class know nothing—but their five, so he never really expected her to. All they know is that she was there at lunch, and not there after recess.

_That mean boy, Ryan, he make fun of her 'cause she was reading a book at lunch 'stead of playin' like everyone else, _had said one little girl by the name of Taylor.

Kate starts crying again when she hears. He wraps her in his arms, silently cursing that mean little boy, Ryan. He might only be five, but they're emotional and their baby girl is missing and the last words spoken to her before she was kidnapped were the teasing ones of a young bully.

* * *

Alexis calls. She asks him what's going on. He tells her the truth.

When she asks him what Anna's chances are, he hates having to tell her _not good._

* * *

The kidnapper calls. Kate can't listen. He does.

Agent Dawson stands next to him, listening to the kidnapper's words. All he listens for is any sign of a little girl, of young life, of his Anna.

The kidnapper's voice is disguised, but he hears the cries of his daughter, curls his fingers into fists and lets tears fall from his eyes because that's his little girl. That's _Anna. _And she's alone. She's crying.

That's all he can think about until the call abruptly ends, any and all words caught in his throat, tears damp on his cheeks.

That's Anna. Anna's alive. And yet it gives him little hope.

Agent Dawson's words, however, are slightly more reassuring than his baby girl's cries.

"The kidnapper's a woman."

* * *

He tells Kate that Anna's alive. He tells Kate that the kidnapper's a woman. Kate buries her face in his chest. He presses his lips to her head, a silent celebration in the midst of horrible circumstances because they know. They know things can be horrible, but that their are small victories, like knowing that Anna's alive.

They have to celebrate them.

He knows that if he doesn't, he won't be able to keep being the strong one. And he needs to be the strong one. She needs him to be the strong one.

So they cry together, standing in the precinct's break room, wrapped in each other's arms.

For the first time since she called yesterday, they're tears of relief, and not of pain.

* * *

They trace the call.

Kate gasps when she hears they actually have an address. He tries not to get too excited, remembering the empty house from back when Alexis was kidnapped.

Yet, everyone seems rather relieve, even Agent Dawson.

He lets himself be relieved, too.

* * *

_She's a woman. She was nervous, which means she's not a psychopath. She's a mother, or she was a mother. We think that she had a child who was kidnapped, and that maybe she's trying to project that pain onto someone else. That might be why she contacted you guys. She could have been contacted back when her child was missing. If we're right, though, she's conflicted. _

_She knows the pain she's putting you guys through, and that pain made her suffer a psychotic break. But even the people who suffered the worst psychotic breaks often experience moments of lucidity. In those moments, she'll remember her pain. It's those moments that will keep her from hurting Anna._

That's what Agent Dawson said when he presented them with the profile.

* * *

Ryan's car pulls up outside the house. Kate hops out before anyone else.

For the first time since she called him, he sees the Kate he knows and loves. For the first time since Anna went missing, she's the strong one.

Kate slaps on her vest, the velcro holding it in place, the kevlar protecting her, the word 'POLICE' printed in bold white letters across her chest.

As he puts on his, the word 'WRITER' printed across his own chest, he just hopes that she will be able to think like a police officer, too, and not just have the word on her bulletproof vest.

He knows this can be dangerous. He knows she could end up disappointed.

He doesn't know what he'll do if anything happens to her, especially not if Anna remains missing.

He can be the strong one, as long as he has someone to be strong for. He needs Kate. He needs Anna. He needs Adam. He needs Alexis.

He needs his family. This could take it from him.

* * *

Agent Dawson kinds the kidnapper.

Kate finds Anna.

He walks into a brightly painted, pink room to find them sitting on the ground, a pile of limbs and tears and a puddle of emotions. His knees go weak and he collapses against a wall, tears falling from his eyes as he watches Kate and Anna reunite.

Mother and daughter, so strong, so beautiful, together again. Everything is right in the world again.

It's over.

* * *

He wraps them both in his arms. Anna's tears mingle with Kate's, their daughter cradled in her mother's strong embrace, his girls both where they belong.

Anna cries because she's scared. Kate cries because she's happy.

He cries, too, lets out everything he's held in for the past day because he doesn't have to be strong one anymore.

They can all fall apart together.

* * *

Adam runs right into his mom's arms. Kate cries when she hears his voice again, wraps their little boy up in her arms and holds him against her, whispering endearments to him the same way she did when they found Anna, crying into his curly brown hair as he tugs on her amber hair, repeatedly mumbling _mama, mama back._

* * *

He watches Alexis hold Anna, sees tears shining in his eldest's bright blue eyes. He knows why. Memories haunt him, too.

Both his daughters have been kidnapped. He's been through this twice.

He looks back over at Kate, who's sitting on the couch with an excited Adam sitting on her thighs, eyes shining with joy and relief because their family is together again. Anna is back, they're all okay.

He just hopes the trend doesn't continue, he thinks. He hopes Adam stays safe.

He can't do this again.

* * *

They both tuck Anna in. Kisses are pressed to her head, arms wrapped around her, unwilling to let go. Kate hesitates to let Anna out of her sight. He does, too. But Anna falls asleep, and he wraps his arms around his wife, pulls her from the red-walled bedroom.

She turns around in his embrace, away from the open door, buries her face in the material of his shirt, arms wrapping around him in return. Her lips purse against his chest. He presses his lips to her head.

Her _thank you _is so soft that it's almost inaudible. But he hears it, and tightens his grip on her.

He looks back up at their daughter, pulls her against him even more, and cries.

* * *

She crawls over him, presses her body to his, wraps her arms around him and lets him cry.

For the first time since this whole thing started, she's the strong one.


End file.
